


I'll bring you the sun

by Ghelik



Series: The 100 Fics [64]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Grounder Culture, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-08-23 17:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16623362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghelik/pseuds/Ghelik
Summary: Little Girl has lived six years on borrowed time. She is six when Haiplana Nia comes to put an end to it.





	1. Nameless

Little Girl screams in fear as the guard shoves her forward towards the kernel where the queen’s hunting dogs growl and bark, jumping and slamming themselves against the bars.

Haiplana Nia watches dispassionately. She has no love for this child. She also doesn’t harbor any particular hatred towards her; this punishment is for the child’s treacherous father, may his soul be trice cursed.

The girl twists in the guard’s grip, trying to break free. When the huge soldier stops at the door, she kicks him in the shins, hard enough to make him grunt. The man backhands her so hard, her head snaps to the side, her pale cheek glowing red. One of the dogs wedges its long muzzle between the bars, snapping its teeth inches away from the girl’s arm. She yelps face covered in terrified tears. Ever since one of the village’s mutts bit her when she was two years old, she couldn’t stand the sight of them, couldn’t even hear their bark without cold sweat gathering in the back of her neck.

The queen’s hunting dogs are huge beasts with intelligent, evil eyes and teeth as long as her fingers.

The guard manages to unlatch the door and is shoving her towards it when an authoritative voice cuts through the air like a blade: “Stop!” The guard freezes. Haiplana Nia turns.

A young man has entered the room with long, purposeful strides. Like the guard, he wears leather armor, but his is more beautiful, more intricate and beautiful. It is also dirty and splattered with dry blood and mud. His face bears the hints of a beard, and the twin marks of Azgedan royalty bracketing his handsome blue eyes; his long dark blond hair plaited and decorated with beads and metallic pieces that click together when he moves. A black and white magpie feather hangs, woven into a small snaking braid behind his left ear.

“Hector!” Haiplana Nia’s smile’s sharp like a snake’s. She hugs her first born who, at eighteen years, is a head taller than her and nearly twice as wide “I didn’t expect you until tonight.”

“I was eager to come back home to my mother.” The woman’s smile grows, pleased with this answer. “What are you doing?”

“Feeding the dogs. They’ve earned a special treat.”

Hector’s expression darkens. He has his mother’s stormy blue eyes and iron will. “I thought we had an agreement. You were to keep the girl here until after the canyon battle.”

“The battle is over.”

“And we won. The Great Waterfall is ours. _Slipenwoda_ clan has signed the treaty and is now part of our people.” Haiplana Nia purses her lips with disapproval. “Which, according to our wager, means the girl belongs to me.”

“And what will you do with this worthless little…”

“I intend on making her an echo,” answers Hector calmly. His mother snorts.

“An echo? She’s too malnourished, too small, and too old for that.”

“I don’t think so.”

Haiplana Nia rolls her tongue over her teeth, thinking her next move carefully. This bastard is going to die; she will watch the last remand of her husband’s betrayal being torn limb from limb. “Tell you what. If you can turn that worthless little thing into a proper echo in one year’s time, I’ll let you keep her.”

“Done.”

“She’ll have to face off against Ontari. And win single combat.“

Hector presses his lips into a fine white line. He knows his mother wouldn’t risk Ontari’s life unless she were sure her little psychopath would win. Which means she is planning on cheating. “Done.” Haiplana Nia is not pleased but, well, she has waited this long, she can wait a little longer.

“Release the girl,” orders the queen, marching out of the room without looking back. The guard lets go of the terrified girl, following the queen and leaving Hector alone with her. Hector latches the gate to the dog’s kernel and kicks it when the beasts slam against it trying to get free.

The girl’s cheeks are covered in tears, lip trembling and hands fisted at her sides. There is something almost regal in the set of her tiny shoulders.

“Hello,” he speaks with a honeyed voice, approaching her like one would a skittish horse, “my name is Hector, son of Nia, heir to the Azgedan throne. What is your name?”

She looks at him with her trembling body and fisted hands, a warrior in the making if he ever saw one. Good.

“Aunt Lucile called me Little Girl.” She speaks as clearly as possible through her hiccups.

He kneels on the straw-covered floor. “Well, that won’t do. You need a proper name.” he pokes her belly with one finger. “And some food to keep up that strength.”

Little Girl doesn’t answer, watching him warily as he stands up and offers her his square scar-covered hand. It looks huge. On his middle finger, he wears a big silver ring. Little Girl likes that ring.

The hand is warm, strong and calloused. Hector’s smiles kindly, guiding her slowly out of the dog kennel and into the Winter Palace with its dark winding stone corridors and massive staircases. Little Girl has never been in a building like this. Until then she had only seen the squat wooden houses with the slanted roofs of her aunt’s village: small one-room huts with a fireplace in the middle, dried flowers hung over the doors and intricate antlers attached to the ceiling to ward off evil spirits.

They reach a winding staircase: one side goes down deeper into the bowels of the palace. It looks old, the metal grate of some of the steps has been replaced with dark wood. On the other side of this, a grander, more intricate staircase has been carved out of the mountain itself, elegant steps climbing up into the newer parts of the palace. They go up this one until they reach a corridor sprinkled with big windows, the floors covered with wool rugs and walls decked in pictures and tapestries.

Hector’s rooms are wide and airy, the large windows, overlooking the Eastern woods, flood the room with cool winter sun. By the balcony doors stands a small round table covered by a fine silken cloth and laden with food: bowls of fresh apples and luscious berries sitting beside trays of crispy bread rolls, soft pastries, and dried meats.

Little Girl had never seen such a grand feast. Back home Aunt Lucile gave them creamy oatmeal for breakfast, except on special occasions, when she would cook eggs and a slip of bacon.

Hector sits her on one of the comfortable chairs. Her feet don’t reach the ground. “You can eat whatever you prefer; I’ll be back in a moment.”

Little Girl looks at the display, at the plate and the pronged eating utensil beside her knife. There’s a napkin made of white linen she’s too afraid to use, for fear of getting it dirty. Slowly she selects one of the big green-red apples and takes a bite.

In the village, the apples belonged to Hairy Yon, and he would chase the children of his orchard with his massive dog. Little Girl liked apples, but not enough to risk stealing them. Her cousins, on the other hand, often climbed the fence to raid Hairy Yon’s trees. If she played lookout, they would spare her one. None of Hairy Yon’s was as big or as sweet as this.

She’s halfway through her apple, inspecting the contents of a covered tray –sausages and baked beans - when Hector comes back. She watches him take off the heavy leather armor and wander in just his undershirt through a door to the side.

Little Girl takes one of the sausages and stuffs half of it into her mouth. It’s soft and greasy; the flavor explodes on her tongue and her eyes roll back into her skull. It’s so good. Quickly, before someone can take it away, she pushes the rest of it into her mouth, chewing with some difficulty. She’s about to take the second one when Hector comes back into the room. He has taken his undershirt and boots off and is dressed in a loose tunic and leather pants. His long hair has been pulled out of the braids, only the little one with the feather behind his left ear remains.

When he sits across from Little Girl at the table and fills a cup with steaming milk, she retakes her apple. They eat in silence for a while, watching each other. Hector butters a bread roll and puts some dried meats on it before taking a bite. Little Girl continues with her apple, her eyes flitting every now and then back to the sausage tray, wondering if she can take another. He said she could eat anything, but it could be a trick.

“Have you tried the beans?” Hector asks around a bite of his bread roll. “They’re one of Wanda’s specialties.”

Little Girl never liked green beans, their texture makes her gag, and she dislikes their flavor. But Hector’s eyes are fixed on her, so she takes a handful with her spoon and sticks it into her mouth. She has to fight the urge to spit them out, swallowing instead. Her eyes water when they drag down her throat. “Very tasty,” she pants, quickly biting into what’s left of her apple to get rid of the taste.

Hector watches her for a long moment and then: “Don’t ever lie to me, Little Girl.”

She looks down at her plate only to realize that it’s dirty. There’s a drop of the sausage’s sauce on the white china dark and accusing. “I am sorry.”

“Look at me, Little Girl.” She obeys. “You never lie to me, or to Haiplana, do you understand?”

“Yes. I understand. I am sorry.”

Another long silence.

“I bet with my mother that I could make you a spy.” Hector finishes his bread roll and takes the sausage and beans tray, serving a few spoon-full on his plate and adding two sausages. “Do you know what an echo is?” He plops two sausages on her plate but doesn’t add any beans. Little Girl shakes her head no. “Azgeda is like a house. Haiplana and the royal family are its roofs. We keep the people of Azgeda safe from winds and rain and snow that could kill them. The military is the walls of this house, keeping nasty enemies out, making sure everyone inside can be happy and grow our crops and hunt our meat, fatten our pigs and milk our cows. The people of Azgeda are like the house’s hearth, the glowing heart. An echo’s job is to make sure that hearth is protected. Making sure the roof doesn’t fall on it. The walls don’t collapse.”

Little Girl takes one of the sausages from her plate and bites into the soft meat. Hector continues. “You will need to learn how to fight and how to infiltrate other clans to find out about their secrets. And you will need to learn how to infiltrate every part of Az society, too. To find traitors that would try and harm this house. Do you understand?”

She nods. “The pronged thing beside your knife is a called a fork. At the palace, you will need to use that to put food into your mouth.”

Little Girl feels her cheeks warming. Watching Hector, she picks the pronged fork and the knife and cuts a piece of sausage. It’s harder eating like this. Also it seems kind of pointless. She does it anyway. Hector’s smile is worth the bother.

He chews on his beans, brow furrowed in thought. “Do you know who your parents were?”

She shakes her head no. The only thing she knows is that Aunt Lucile was her mother’s sister and that it was forbidden to speak of her mother or her father. She also knows that both died a shameful death and were forever lost to the Great Void, condemned to be forgotten, to never set foot in the Great Halls of their Ancestors.

Hector hums and Little Girl wants to ask if _he_ knows, but she continues chewing. Aunt Lucile didn’t like questions, and Uncle Harty would beat her with his belt if she asked too many.

The prince shakes himself. “You have one year to convince my mother that you can become an Az Echo. When that happens, she’ll appoint you a proper name.”

Her heart does a little summersault in her chest. She has never had a name before. Her cousins were Tandy kom Azgeda, and Lars kom Azgeda. Up until this moment, she had been only Little Girl, Lucile’s Little Girl. A bastard without a name who would die a shameful death as her parents had.

“What do you say, Echo? Do you want to protect Azgeda and the royal family?”

When Little Girl, looks up at Hector, she sees her future king, a king who is kind and powerful and wise. A king she would die for. “With my life.”

And with Hector’s kind and proud smile, Little Girl disappears and Echo kom Azgeda is born.


	2. Nameless II

 

For the next month, Echo becomes Hector’s shadow, following him silently wherever he goes, which is mostly the training grounds where he meets with Weapon’s Master Ingrid who teaches Echo how to spar and sword fight, and the library, where he teaches her how to read and write.

Every week Spymaster Murray visits the prince in his quarters to check on Echo’s progress. He is a strict old man, with a long scar down his right cheek and a full toad-like mouth, in his rough, vein-covered hands, his ever-present riding crop. Echo has found out three things about him: he doesn’t believe she will best Ontari, thus won’t become a real echo and therefore stubbornly calls her Little Girl. He is quick to anger, throwing spittle everywhere and turning beet-red. He is even faster with the crop.

This week he’s testing her on Azgedan history and Echo is not performing as expected. The man snaps the riding crop across her extended hands; tears spring from her eyes. The pain is intense but not as terrible as Hector’s disappointed stare.

“Answer the question!” barks Spymaster Murray. Echo flinches and gets the riding crop across her buttocks for doing so. “Did I say you could move?”

“No, sir,” she sniffs. “I am sorry, sir.”

“Answer the question. Where did Azgeda defeat Trikru?”

“I don’t know,” whispers the girl. The crop lands on her fingers, blood wells up from a cut on her pinky.

“Speak up, Little Girl. I can’t hear you!”

“I don’t know where Azgeda defeated Trikru, sir!”

“Pathetic,” growls Spymaster Murray. “What good is a spy who can’t remember simple facts?”

“I can do better.”

Spymaster Murray purses his lips, but Hector cuts in before he can raise the crop once again. “I think that’s quite enough for today.”

He doesn’t look pleased, but he bows and leaves the room. Slowly, Echo lowers her throbbing hands. There are welts and small stinging cuts all over them. Grabbing the sword will be painful tomorrow.

“Come here, Echo.”

Hector stands by the bathroom door. He sits her on a small stool, dabbing ointment on her hands with so much care, she nearly doesn’t notice the sting. “It was on the eastern bank of the Omano River.”

Echo doesn’t say anything.

“Why didn’t you tell him that I hadn’t taught you that yet?”

Echo blinks up at the prince. She winces when he taps the cut on her pinky with the cloth. “That would have gotten my prince in trouble,” she answers in earnest. “And it is my job to keep the royal family safe.”

Hector smiles, pinches her cheek and bandages her hands with cold compresses.

“You can go to bed now.”

The young spy nods and walks out of the bathroom into Hector’s bedroom. For the time being, she sleeps on a comfy pillow inside a small closet. She knows it is temporary: as soon as Spymaster Murray deems her prepared enough, she will move where all the other echoes live.

She closes the closet door behind her, the lock clicks, and she’s surrounded by total darkness.

Echo doesn’t want to leave Hector’s side, but she knows she has to start training with the other young spies if she wants to defeat Ontari on single combat. And she doesn’t want to leave Hector’s side, but she knows she has to, has to prove that he didn’t make a mistake when he saved her from the dogs. She is loyal to Azgeda and will be its honorable defender some day. And the royal family will be so proud of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting ^^


	3. Nameless III

It takes Echo six months to get Spymaster Murray’s approval to transfer to the spy’s quarters deep in the belly of the Winter Palace. When she enters the playroom, there are twenty children ranging from five to seventeen there. They look cunning and dangerous as snakes.

“This is Little Girl,” explains Spymaster Murray, shoving her into the room. “She has been handpicked by Prince Hector himself to join your ranks. Show her the ropes. Make her feel welcome.”

They don’t.

Echo’s learning improves tenfold throughout the next few weeks. She has to be always on guard, constantly alert, has to work twice as hard to be at least one step ahead of the other children.

Azgedan echoes are chosen at the crib. They belong to the most loyal families in the kingdom and are raised since infancy to become the best and brightest, loyal only to the crown and the clan. Spymaster Murray pits them often against each other and praise is hard to earn and as valuable as it is dangerous. Some children die mysteriously overnight and being the Queen, or the Prince’s favorite isn’t an advantage.

So Echo learns to sleep with one eye open, keeps training and reading and learning even after the rest have gone to bed. She needs to become better, not only to survive but because Hector is counting on her to win his bet against the Queen. She can live with the other children disliking her; can bear their beatings and their cheating and their ganging up on her, her teachers punishments and the exhausting training. But she cannot fail Hector.

 

She sees the prince only sporadically over the next few months. They’re at war with Trikru again. The woods clan has been raiding villages on their southeast border, and the prince is often on lengthy campaigns, leading the armies and protecting their people.

But whenever he’s at the palace, he calls upon her, lets her demonstrate what she’s learned and spars with her. He brings her treats from the villages, small things she can hide under her mattress.

Whenever she is with him she is Echo, and she lives for these visits, yearns to grow up and accompany him in his quests, protecting him while he takes care of Azgeda.

Sometimes he even has her come to the Queens private dining rooms, where all of the royal family eats together. Haiplana Nia always purses her lips when she enters.

Of course, she isn’t allowed to sit at the table, with the Queen and the princes and princesses. But Hector has her sitting on the floor by his chair and slips her morsels from his plate.

Hector has five younger brothers and sisters: Beth, Rebba, Roan, Olive, and Andreas. Beth and Rebba are set to marry into the royal families of two countries to the east. Rebba isn’t happy with the arrangement and is making the fact loudly known when Hector enters the room with Echo in tow.

“He is a toad!”

“Yes,” answers Haiplana Nia without rising her voice. “And a stupid one at that. Once you are his queen, your people will have secured one of the most fertile lands this side of the wastelands.”

“Give thanks you don’t have to move to some stinky island” grumbles Beth is sitting primly at the table and serving herself a helping of deer. “I won’t be seeing a tree for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t want to marry into the Boudalan clan.” Rebba stomps her foot like a child. Hector doesn’t say anything. Rebba is one of the most beautiful women Echo has ever seen: with silky blond hair and striking green eyes, her freckled skin and soft features. Neither her older sister Beth nor the young Olive can hold a candle to Rebba. Which, as far as Echo knows, is the main reason why she has been set to marry the Boudalankru king.

“You will do as you what is best for your people. And that’s the end of this discussion.”

“We could take the land by force. We have done it before,” pouts Rebba.

“And risk losing their crops and workforce? Are you stupid?”

“He is a gross old man and I don’t want him.”

“Well I don’t want some brat as my child, and here you are. Now sit down, and let's eat before I lose my temper.”

Rebba opens her mouth, but one single shake of Hector’s head is enough to shut her up.

The royal family gives thanks to the Great Spirits for their meal and eat, while Haiplana questions Olive and Roan on their lessons. At twelve, Olive is about to leave for Polis. She’ll have the honor of becoming a Flamekeeper, devoting her life to the Spirit of the Commander. Roan, about to turn ten, is a chubby kid who idolizes Hector above everyone else. Echo sees him often training under Weapons master Ingrid, or trying not to fall asleep in the vast library.

What Olive and Roan have to say about their respective days is not interesting, but Echo pays attention nonetheless because this is part of her training. Hector will question her later, will expect her to notice stuff, to find out about their secrets. Like the fact that Beth has a lover or that Roan has fallen off his horse and has yet to tell anyone. It’s a game and Echo enjoys it greatly.

There is a lull in the conversation, and then Queen Nia takes her glass of wine and leans back. “I have decided we will hold some games next week, to honor King Trav and celebrate Rebba’s wedding.” Hector stills, his fork halfway to his mouth. “It will provide a perfect opportunity for Ontari to defeat Little Girl in single combat to the death.”

“Mother. You gave her a year to prepare.” Hector’s voice is harsh.

“And it’s nearly over. If she can’t defeat Ontari next week, she won’t be able to do it in a month or two.” The queen’s sharp eyes land on the girl sitting by her firstborn’s boot. “What do you think, Little Girl? Are you ready to die?”

“I am ready to serve my Queen and my Kru, My Queen,” answers Echo in all earnestness. Queen Nia’s smile is dangerous and unsettling.


	4. Nameless IV

King Trav kom Boudalankru and his court arrive at the Winter Castle on an unusually hot afternoon, the sun glaring angrily on the echoes practicing their swordplay on the yard next to the stables.

Spymaster Murray watches them with his strict eyes and sweat-covered brow, snapping movements and commands for them to follow. When the ruling party comes thundering into the yard, he has all the children line up by the Castle's side to watch the proceedings.

They need to learn the protocol and conventions of other clans, and they don't often get the chance to do so in person, because not many tribes come visit the Queen on her turf. The older echoes are sometimes sent out to infiltrate villages for a few weeks, but for the younger ones, this is their first contact with another clan.

King Trav is as wide and as short as the Boudalan horses, his skin is coarse and tan, his shaved head glimmers under the harsh sunlight and there's a simple air around his slightly cross-eyed look. By his side, a younger man with thick black curls pulled back into a ponytail inspects everything with keen brown eyes. This man dresses like the rest of the King's soldiers, but something about him gives Echo pause. She chances a look to the other children to see if they noticed anything strange, but they're all staring at the king.

The Boudalan horses are taken into the stables to be watered and fed. Spymaster Murray steps forward to greet the King with the spies in training he guides the whole party to the throne room.

This is the grandest room in the Winter Castle with ceilings that seem to reach the sky and intricate tapestries covering the stonewalls. On a dais at the end of the room stand seven thrones occupied by the six members of the Royal family: on the center one sits Queen Nia covered in a brocaded tunic and sturdy leather pants. Her panther fur cloak envelops her like a glossy second skin. On her brow sits the royal crown, the black holes on the wolf's skull staring menacingly down at the Boudalan party. Echo glances at the King and the black-haired companion standing a step behind him. Non of the other soldiers stands so close to the monarch.

The black haired man bows low to the Queen. “My King Trav kom Boudalankru gives thanks for the warm welcome he’s received, Queen Nia. He is looking forward to the union with your beautiful daughter, Princess Rebba.

It’s evident that Princess Rebba doesn’t share the sentiment. From her throne between Beth and Olive, she sneers down at her future husband. Even that gesture looks pretty and refined on her soft features.

"We bring gifts for our future mother-in-law and our future queen." Two chambermaids come into the room carrying a heavy wooden chest. They set it at the foot of the dais and scurry away leaving the black haired man and king to present the gifts. Pulling the latch open to reveals a mess of clothes, jewels, and two coarse sacks. The speaker pulls out a bejeweled dress. "This bridal dress has been in the Boudalankru royal family since before Praimfaya. It is an honor for King Trav to gift it to his new wife.”

Rebba looks disinterested, and her tone is sourly when she spits "It's charming."

"Our jewelers have worked night and day to create something that will make our new Queen's beauty justice," he picks up a box next. One of the soldiers takes it and brings it to Princess Rebba. From where she stands Echo can’t see what’s inside, but by the look on Rebba’s face, she isn’t impressed.

The next gift is the antlers of a great beast called a moose. They look like large cupped hands. They are presented for to the Queen with great reverence, as are the two sacks of flour and corn.

Queen Nia is more gracious than her daughter in receiving her presents. After the stewards have taken the chest away, the Queen finally rises from her throne. "We are honored by your presence. As a show of our joy, we have organized games of strength and cunning. My best warriors will perform for your entertainment. And, to celebrate your joyous union to my daughter, we will feast on the best meat on the land."

"My king is overjoyed with this arrangement," says the black-haired man, bowing low. King Trav nods, his eyes traveling up and down his future wife's body in a way that makes Echo's stomach twist.

**Author's Note:**

> As always this was unbeta'd.  
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting.


End file.
